


Spain | Well-Deserved

by protectnevillelongbottom



Series: Seven Shades of Summer [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry, Established Relationship, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, La Fiesta de San Juan, M/M, Midsummer, POV Harry Potter, Solstice, Spain, Spanish Traditions, Summer Solstice, Vacation, barcelona, implied semi-public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectnevillelongbottom/pseuds/protectnevillelongbottom
Summary: Harry and Draco take their annual birthday trip together to celebrate Spain's midsummer traditions, surprising each other along the way.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Seven Shades of Summer [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788955
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80
Collections: Seven Shades of Drarry





	Spain | Well-Deserved

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), the second in a series of planned collaborative projects within the [Seven Shades of Drarry](/collections/Seven_Shades_of_Drarry) collective.
> 
> Spain's celebration of midsummer is called the feast of San Juan. It consists of a variety of traditions, including dancing around bonfires, burning effigies, fireworks displays, touching the belly of a prancing stallion for good luck, walking across hot coals, or in more coastal areas, a midnight dip to cleanse their sins. Many territories within Spain have their own local traditions, such as goat cleansing, water fights, marches into town from the top of a mountain, and more. While not all of these traditions were displayed in this story, they are definitely worth looking up. 
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.
> 
> Accompanying song: “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles

The back garden at 12 Grimmauld Place was Harry’s favourite spot to watch the sunset, curled up on one of their several decorative benches and often with a glass of Draco’s favourite whisky, the sharpness of which burned down his throat. Most nights Draco sat next to him, fingers lightly tracing the tendons in Harry’s feet, but tonight his husband’s absence made Harry shiver as the last remaining warmth of the day dipped below the horizon. Draco had gotten “lucky”, as he put it in a voice dripping with sarcasm, and was working overnight at St. Mungo’s. 

Harry tucked his feet further under himself just as there was a knock behind him. 

“Hi,” Hermione said once she’d slid open the door, “I found it.”

Harry’s head whipped around, his glass nearly spilling all over himself. “You did not.”

“I did,” Hermione laughed as she sat next to him, a large rectangular package in her hands. The suede cloth wrapped around it was tied with thick twine. Harry tugged on one end of the distinctly non-decorative bow and the covering fell off to reveal an ancient-looking book. 

“Hermione… Merlin, I can’t believe it,” Harry stared at the tome in awe, delicately picking it up. The front cover featured thin, pale cracks that branched out like a spiderweb, showing the book’s age. Harry could hardly make out the title, and only did so by tilting the book so the porch light shined along the faint, embossed lettering. “ _ Core Magick: How Blood Can Heale _ ”, Harry read off, squinting. He carefully turned the book over in his hands, but the back cover was blank, as was the spine. 

“It’s the original, from what I can tell,” Hermione pointed out. “I read through a few chapters. I think the concepts are very traditional and not even remotely used today… though Draco would know more about that.”

Harry hummed his agreement, allowing Hermione to help him tie the thing back into a respectable looking package. “I’m not quite sure why he wants it, to be honest.”

They retired indoors. Harry offered Hermione a finger or two of whisky, to which she politely declined and made an arbitrary excuse to Floo home. Harry knew, unfortunately, the circumstances of her quick departure. Ron had owled him days ago to catch up, casually sliding in the fact that he and Hermione had been talking about starting their family. He was happy for them, really, but could stand to know less about the process.

Harry was left to find the perfect hiding spot for his gift. Draco, to Harry’s utter dismay at this particular moment, insisted on using every room at Grimmauld Place, despite it being far too large for just the two of them. Harry spent the better part of an hour hiding, then second-guessing himself, then re-hiding the book. He finally settled for the third floor sitting room, nestled under the seldom-used armchair in the corner where Draco knew Harry stashed his quarterly copies of  _ Which Broomstick? _ . Harry's broomstick collected had, admittedly, gotten out of hand. He could still _look_ , though, couldn't he?

* * *

Harry woke when the covers were pulled back, a rush of cool air hitting his bare chest and making him automatically whine. An arm snaked around Harry’s waist, tugging him against a warm chest. Draco pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s temple and whispered, “Mornin’, love.”

“G’morn,” Harry mumbled, burying his face into Draco’s chest with a content sigh. “Missed you.”

Merlin, Harry loved moments like these. The feeling of Draco pressed up against him, the both of them too tired to adjust the position even though Harry’s shoulder ached from the awkward angle of his arm. Sunlight barely filtering through the curtains, giving off just enough light that Harry could see the dark circles under Draco’s eyes, but not enough to warrant Harry getting out of bed quite yet. 

Draco’s stomach let out a quiet rumble, so quiet that if Harry’s head hadn’t been pressed against the blond’s chest, he wouldn’t have heard it. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Wanted to see you,” Draco murmured, his arms tightening. “Don’t wanna get up.”

Harry lifted his head, catching Draco’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss. He felt Draco hum into the kiss, lips parting without guidance, allowing Harry’s tongue to meet his own in a slow slide. They stayed like that for a while, Harry letting his tongue gently run over the line of Draco’s teeth, then offering up his own mouth for Draco’s exploration.

Harry felt Draco’s cock hardening at his hip and smiled into the kiss, slipping his hand under the covers to trail his fingers down the length of Draco’s stomach. When it reached its destination, fingers curling around the shaft, Draco let out a soft grunt that turned into a long whine when Harry applied just the right amount of pressure. 

He knew Draco hated the night shift, but Harry secretly loved them just for this reason. Helping his husband relax after a long night. Draco giving up his control to allow Harry to take care of him. Soft moments in contrast to the hard, passionate ones.

Draco broke their kiss to pant, hot breath ghosting over Harry’s face, one of his hands sliding down to grab Harry’s arse, just for something to hold onto. Harry tilted his head down to mouth at Draco’s neck, the blond arching into his touch. Harry loved doing this for him, to him. He knew exactly what Draco needed, what Draco liked. He was an expert after all. Six years of marriage gave him quite a lot of experience.

Harry felt Draco’s stomach tensing under his arm as he brought him over the edge, spilling over Harry’s fist. He vanished the mess with a whisper and small wave of his hand, pulling Draco flush against him and trailing kisses up his husband’s neck. “Love you,” He mumbled.

“Love you,” was Draco’s sleepy reply. Harry could tell Draco was close to drifting off, face relaxed into that cute frown he wore when he slept.

Harry cast a quick Tempus, sighing when he realised he’d have to get up for work. “Can’t wait until our holiday when I can lie in bed with you all day,” Harry whispered, planting one last kiss on the corner of Draco’s mouth before stretching his arms above his head as he rolled back from his husband. 

“Another week,” Draco responded, though it came out sounding like, “no weep”. Harry felt a surge of affection for this man, unable to stop himself from smoothing the hair off the blond’s forehead and leaving another kiss. Harry forced himself up after that, dragging his feet to the loo.

* * *

The week went by as they often did when Harry was looking forward to something, slower than a sleeping snail. Slow to the point where Harry was so frustrated he blasted the clock off the divider between his desk and Ron’s, one of the clock hands hitting him squarely in the face in retaliation. 

Ron peeked his head over the divider, brow raised. “What’s up?” 

“I hate paperwork,” Harry whined, thumping his head down on the desk. He really did. The few hours of excitement he got each week in the field were, at this particular moment, not worth the days of paperwork that followed. Really, why did he have to fill out both the L-24 form and the N-22 when they were pretty much the same thing? And if he had to scribble down the perp’s description one more time, he’d lose it. Brown hair, brown eyes, approximately 171 cm, last seen wearing dark jeans and a pullover sweater.

Harry couldn’t much care that they’d lost the suspect in pursuit yesterday. The bloke merely stole something from a shop in Diagon; it wasn’t as if he’d cast an Unforgivable into an innocent crowd of people. And besides, Harry was about to be gone for a whole eleven days. Eleven beautiful, well-deserved days by the seaside with his breathtaking husband. He wouldn’t even be part of the investigation, so why did he have to do all the damned paperwork?

“I give up,” he said after another ten minutes of feigning interest in what he was writing. He stood up and propped his head up on the divider, receiving a full view of Ron somehow still studiously filling out forms. Harry sighed, loudly.

“Just go home,” Ron chuckled, red hair flopping into his face as he shook his head at Harry. “No one will care. In fact, I’m leaving too.”

“You are?” Harry asked excitedly, both eyebrows raising. If Ron left, Harry would be without a partner for the rest of the day. Which would give him a strong argument to forgo his paperwork and refuse any cases until five o’clock, at which point he’d be Flooing straight home into Draco’s waiting arms. “Why?”

Ron scratched the back of his neck, flipping a few files closed and stacking them neatly. “Well, erm… Since you’ll be gone, I decided to have the weekend off too, and… you know, cause ‘Mione and I are  _ trying _ ,” he emphasized the last word as if it pained him, but Harry couldn’t care less.

“I wish you two could come to Barcelona with us. Hermione never takes a vacation,” Harry sighed wistfully. He really missed traveling with his friends, even though they were being hunted down at the time. 

“Don’t I know it,” was Ron’s reply, staring off to the side for a few moments. Harry knew he was looking at the framed picture of Hermione he kept propped up by his pencil cup.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Harry laughed, taking up the satchel which he usually brought his work home in. The case files stayed pointedly on his desk as he left his cube this time, not turning back. 

* * *

“You’re home early,” Draco stated, kneeling by the fireplace as if he’d been on a Floo call. Or expecting one. 

Harry leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, smiling. “Just couldn’t focus. I’m too excited about our trip.” 

“Yes, I was just finalizing all the plans,” his husband replied, pushing himself to his feet. “We’ve got both the tours scheduled, plus the reserved spot for the Solstice celebration.”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry murmured, arm wrapping around Draco’s neck and pulling him down for another kiss. “I’ll have to go finish packing,” he said, breathlessly, when they pulled apart.

Harry snuck upstairs into the sitting room while Draco made tea, tucking the package under his arm as he snuck back down to their bedroom. He pressed the book into the bottom of his suitcase, tossing the rest of his clothes on top to disguise it. It didn’t matter all that much. They were always so eager to open their presents that they insisted on doing it the first night they got wherever it was they decided to go that year. 

* * *

Harry woke up early, cursing at himself when he checked the time. It was over an hour before they had to be up, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep. Draco’s let out a soft snore next to him, his even breaths lulling Harry into a daydream.

_ They were in Venice, where they went on holiday the year before last. They’d just gotten back from the beach, where Harry had deepened his tan and Draco had burned under the hot rays of sunlight. Harry was laying in bed, arm slung over his eyes to block out any light as he tried to nap. Draco was in the adjoining loo, rubbing salve on his skin to ease the pain.  _

_ Draco finally laid down next to him, resting his head on Harry’s chest as Harry wrapped his arm around the blond’s shoulders. He smelled of salt and sweat and the salve he’d just put on. Peonies. Probably from Neville’s shop.  _

_ Harry had drifted off after that, exhausted from the heat and the beach, only to wake a short while later as Draco crawled out of his embrace. Harry moved the arm off his face, squinting in the light to look over at his husband. “Love you,” he mumbled. _

_ Draco turned to look at him, a small smile on his lips, and opened his mouth to reply… _

A shrill ringing sound came from Draco’s lips in his mind, forcing Harry out of his half-asleep dream. He opened his eyes to the same old ceiling at home, then looked over to see Draco’s alarm clock going off, shooting blue sparks out of the top. Draco let out a pitiful groan and slammed his hand onto the clock, ceasing its noise. 

Harry pressed a kiss to the back of Draco’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his husband’s waist. “Holiday,” he murmured against Draco’s skin. The side of Draco’s face that wasn’t smooshed into the pillow smiled sleepily. 

Draco, under the guise of stretching, arched his back and pressed his arse right into Harry’s groin, that sleepy smile turning into a sultry smirk. 

“Merlin, you’re such a tease,” Harry whispered, his fingers trailing up Draco’s chest to tweak his nipple. “Can’t wait to fuck you on our balcony in Barcelona so all the beachgoers can watch us.”

Draco let out a whine when Harry pulled away, yelping as he felt a sharp slap to his backside.

“Portkey’s at six, love. Let’s go!”

* * *

Harry and Draco both agreed that the Portkeys were by far the worst part about their trips together, but it was much faster, simpler, and more comfortable than Apparition. They’d tried that before and ended up stranded, exhausted, in a small wheat farm in Bulgaria. They still ended up exhausted, but if they took their Portkey early enough, they could rest as soon as they got to the hotel and be perfectly ready for their first night of holiday.

When they were settled into their room, Draco insisting that they unpack their clothes into the provided closet, Harry pounced. Draco, caught by surprise, laughed as his back hit the mattress, Harry’s weight on top of him. Harry connected their lips in a hard kiss, all tongues and bitten lips and panting groans, while Draco slipped his hands into the back pockets of Harry’s jeans, squeezing his arse. 

* * *

“You look very smart,” Harry said, his eyes more focused on his husband’s reflection in the mirror than the knot he was attempting to tie around his own neck. Draco wore a lavender-coloured button-up tucked neatly into his black trousers, the darker purple tie that hung from his neck barely reaching his stomach, making his torso look even more elongated than normal. Harry never liked to admit it, but his husband was tall — beautifully tall and lean, and he fit perfectly next to Harry when they were wasting away the hours in bed.

Draco shot him a smile through the reflection and threw on his jacket. Harry followed suit, then trailed after Draco as he walked out the door. 

Harry gave Draco a pleased smirk as they entered the lift, knowing they were both thinking about their time in New York. How Harry had stopped the lift just to drop to his knees and suck Draco’s cock right there, a mere three floors between them and their room. 

Holiday often made them randy, made them want to rip each other’s clothes off anywhere, any time. Harry loved this time of year. He loved being able to leave work behind and focus on his husband, on spending time together when they normally wouldn’t be able to. The Auror department encouraged him to stay late, to work overtime catching criminals, and he often did. Draco typically worked at least an hour after his shift at St. Mungo’s anyway, so what was the harm?

The point was they missed each other, even though they lived together. Harry hated when they worked opposite shifts and only got to see each other for a spare hour here or there. He longingly wished they’d both chosen less intensive career paths, but Harry had his hunting-down-criminals thing and Draco had his own saving-people thing. 

So they made up for all that with their annual trip together.

The walk to the restaurant was uneventful. The streets of Barcelona were flooded with people stringing up lights and decorations, constructing the effigies Harry and Draco had read about. Harry made eye contact with a man loading firewood onto the back of a truck, no doubt for one of the many bonfires that would burn tomorrow night. The man smiled and waved at him. Harry thought about helping the man load the truck since there didn’t seem to be anyone else to do so, but Draco just tugged him along. Harry settled for waving back and falling into stride with Draco, whose hand squeezed his just a bit tighter as they approached the restaurant. 

Draco turned toward him, blocking the way as Harry tried to open the door. “I know we usually give our presents the first night,” he started, his free hand lifting to cup Harry’s neck, “but I can’t give you yours until tomorrow.”

“Okaaay,” Harry elongated, squinting up at Draco with suspicion. “Do you still want your gift tonight?”

“That’s up to you, love,” Draco replied, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead, then pulling the door open for him. 

They had a lovely dinner of  _ Pisto _ , which their waitress described as the ratatouille of Spain. It was the most delicious thing Harry had ever tasted — hearty and rich, melting in his mouth. Their waitress also gave them a sampling of the gazpacho, which Draco insisted they try at every restaurant they’d go to. “It’s one of Spain’s most famous dishes,” he pointed out, before shoving a spoonful into Harry’s waiting mouth. 

Draco always had a flair for finding the best food and wine in any place they traveled to. Harry went along with it blindly, knowing Draco rarely steered him wrong. He’d found that risotto during their trip to Italy, and Harry could not get enough of the stuff. Harry’d insisted that they go back and have it twice more during their week-long trip, he’d liked it that much. One of the rare occurrences of Draco making a mistake was in New York. They had something called a “Baconator” from a place with a very creepy red head on the sign named Wendy. That was the worst meal Harry had had in his life, even taking into account the leftovers he was forced to eat as a kid in lieu of a real meal. 

The rest of their meal passed by pleasantly. They chatted with the waitress for a few minutes, as they often did when in a new place, to see if there was anything they missed in their itinerary that they should see. She mentioned the best place for the Solstice festival was only a half-mile down the beach from their hotel, and that their restaurant often served up giant batches of paella for the celebration. 

The sun had set while they ate, so the walk back to their hotel was only lit by the occasional street lamp and the little faerie lights that were strung up along the buildings as decoration. They took their time with the walk, letting their large meal settle as they strolled through the streets, enjoying the time together. Most of the festival decorators had retired for the night, but from what little decorations Harry could see in the dark, it was beautiful. 

Harry pressed Draco up against a column as they approached their hotel, halfway hidden by a bush. Draco let out a short laugh and pulled Harry closer, connecting their lips together. Harry snogged his husband breathless, chuckling when Draco had to pull back to suck air into his lungs. 

“Let’s actually make it to the room this time,” Draco panted, pushing Harry back slightly so he could slip away. Harry trailed after him, fingers entwining with Draco’s when he finally caught up.

As they entered the lobby, Draco went for the lifts just as Harry went for the stairs. He couldn’t trust himself to wait in a lift, not when Draco looked like  _ that _ . His tie loosened, jacket open, top of his shirt unbuttoned, showing off his collarbones, the dip just under his throat— Harry would go mad if he had to wait any longer. 

“Come on,” he growled low into Draco’s ear, tugging him towards the stairs. They took the four flights easily, Harry letting go of Draco’s hand halfway up to stop himself from crowding the blond into a corner as he desperately wanted to. Draco fumbled with the key when they got to their suite, Harry pressed up behind him, trailing kisses down the back of his neck. When the door finally opened, they nearly collapsed into the room, but Harry steadied them with his hand on Draco’s hip. 

The door shut with a sharp bang behind them as Harry got to work stripping Draco, leaving a trail of clothing through the room while Harry pushed Draco towards the balcony so he could make good on his promise from that morning. 

* * *

They lazed around until just before breakfast ended, managing to get an almond croissant and something that looked like a mix between an apple pie and an omelet. 

Harry showered first, then made up the bed and chose his outfit for the day while Draco took his turn. As he dug through his suitcase, he pulled out the wrapped book that he hadn’t given Draco yet. He supposed he could give it to him before they left their suite for the day. Draco had mentioned Harry would get his gift later, so it was only fair. He set the book on Draco’s side of the bed and went out on the balcony to finish off his morning tea. 

Harry watched the way the waves crashed against the sand and receded back into the mass of water, the process repeating until Harry felt hypnotized, unable to focus on a singular thought. He was only brought back to reality when he heard the door slide open behind him. Draco sat across from him, the wrapped book in his lap and a towel draped around his neck to catch any droplets of water that fell from his hair. He’d let it grow out recently, with Harry’s encouragement, and he looked  _ so _ striking in the morning sunlight. Harry fleetingly wondered how he’d got so lucky.

“Tell me why you married me,” Harry mumbled before he could stop himself, leaning forward and resting his hand on Draco’s thigh. 

Draco’s hand covered his, a playful smile on his lips, “For your money, of course.” 

Harry laughed, a weightless feeling washing over him. Merlin, he loved this man. “Go on, open it,” he gave in after seeing Draco’s fingers messing with the twine ties. 

Draco undid the knot with expert speed, letting the cloth covering fall away to reveal the gift inside. Draco’s jaw dropped, his goofy smile turned into an expression of shock. “There’s no way,” he said in disbelief, head shaking enough that a drop of water from his hair hit Harry on the leg. He turned the book in his hands a few times, lightly stroking the cracked spine as he did. “How on Merlin’s green earth did you find it?”

Harry chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck as Draco stared at him. “Hermione,” Draco finally surmised.

“Hermione,” Harry confirmed, “I wasn’t quite sure where to start looking for it, so I had her help me.”

Draco reached out and pulled Harry into the tightest hug he could with the book still balanced in his lap. “I love you. I can’t even believe this.”

“Love you too,” Harry replied before they parted, Draco slowly opening the book. The spine crackled as he did, a small chunk of the cover falling onto the wood of the balcony. Draco flipped to the back of the book, carefully and then turned a few pages.

“This is why I wanted it,” he finally said, tapping a finger on the page he’d landed on. He turned the book toward Harry so he could see. 

“Addendum by Cassiopeia Black. Published in 1906,” Harry read off, a question in his voice. 

Draco nodded excitedly, turning back to the beginning of the book. “She was my great-great-aunt. The original book was written by my great-great-great-grandfather, Phineas Nigellus Black, the one whose portrait is in the third bedroom at home, though he wrote it under an alias since he was Headmaster at the time. She apparently disagreed with some of his theory, so she secretly wrote this section in the back of her copy.” Harry nodded along, his teacup sitting, long forgotten, by his foot. “This is  _ that _ copy,” Draco near-shouted, clearly thrilled by his gift. “There’s only one. Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry grabbed his teacup and stood, leaning down to press a sweet kiss onto Draco’s lips. “I’m so glad you like it, but we have to go before we’re late, love.”

“Of course, of course,” Draco said distractedly, closing the book and following Harry into the suite. 

* * *

Draco had reserved a cable car to take them up over the hills, giving them a view of Barcelona in its entirety. Harry stepped onto the car, catching himself as it started swaying. Draco climbed in behind him, having to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling of the car. 

The conductor poked his head in to say, “The rest of your party will be joining shortly,” and then waved to someone outside the car. 

“Our party?” Harry asked, just as a familiar curly head appeared in the car’s entrance and hopped inside. 

“Hi,” Hermione said simply, ignoring the total shock on Harry’s face. She turned to face the entrance where Ron was climbing through, his head thumping on the ceiling as he tried to stand straight.

“Er,” Harry replied stupidly, his brain working overtime to figure out what the hell was going on. 

He heard Draco chuckle next to him and turned toward the sound, staring at his husband for an explanation of some kind. “You always say you wish they could come with us,” Draco finally supplied, taking a seat on the bench behind them. 

Harry launched himself at his friends, wrapping an arm around each of them and hugging them tightly. “I can’t believe this!” he laughed, unwilling to let go even though the conductor instructed them to take their seats. “You guys are actually here. In Barcelona?”

Ron finally pushed Harry off of them, laughing at Harry’s enthusiasm. “Remember when I said I took a few days off?”

“Sneaky bastard,” Harry replied, punching Ron in the shoulder. He finally sat next to Draco when his husband tugged him back by the neck of his shirt. 

Their cable car ride was rather short, and Harry spent it demanding to know how they pulled off the surprise without him knowing. He barely took in any of the sights the conductor pointed out. He couldn’t believe Draco would arrange for his best friends to surprise him during their vacation. He’d always wanted to bring Hermione and Ron along on a trip, one that didn’t involve hunting Horcruxes and hiding from Death Eaters. 

* * *

The four of them got lunch at a food stand as they walked along the marketplace. Hermione had asked if Draco got his present, which led to Draco giving a long-winded explanation of the significance of that particular copy. Hermione listened, half-eaten churro in hand, distracted by new knowledge. Harry watched Ron steal the rest of her churro and leave a kiss on her cheek as she glared at him. 

Laughing, Harry ran towards the beach as they approached it. He weaved through the locals who were setting up their effigies and bonfires for the evening’s celebration, only stopping when a short woman asked if he could help her set up a canopy. He reached up to fix the fabric onto the stakes planted in the sand, securing it as tight as he could with twine. 

The woman handed him a handful of sparklers, explaining that she usually gave them out to the kids but insisted Harry and his friends have something to celebrate with. Harry thanked her, using the translation charm he and Draco used to speak to locals. 

When he finally reunited with his husband and friends, he showed them the sparklers and suggested they should probably go back to the hotel and get some rest before the festivities.

The walk back to the hotel was long, as they had to walk through the streets crowded with booths and food stands and people parading around with their effigies. Street vendors shouted at them as they passed, wishing them a cleansing Solstice and encouraging them to buy their products. Draco pulled Harry over to a stand offering jewelry, and Harry convinced him to buy something for his mother — a pearl necklace that looked like a zigzag when laid across the neck. 

They rested for a few hours, Harry curled up in the crook of Draco’s arm while Hermione and Ron supposedly did the same in their own room down the hall. When they arose for dinner, it was nearing dark outside and when he looked out the sliding glass doors to their balcony, Harry could see small bonfires lighting up across the beach. From this height, they reminded him of candles, the faint glow reflecting off the water. 

* * *

They skived off their reservation for dinner, not wanting to miss what was happening on the beach. Harry reminded them there were countless food vendors on their way, including the paella from the restaurant last night.

They found a spot on the beach central enough that they could see everything that went on, but just enough out of the way that they could still separate themselves from the crowd rather easily. Draco spread out a magically-enlarged blanket, tossing their handful of sparklers in the center. Harry plopped down onto the blanket and sighed in contentment. The air smelled of smoke and those sickly sweet chocolate churros they ate earlier. As Harry laid back to look up at the sky, he watched clouds of smoke roll up into the night, blending in with the dark blue. 

The beach was loud, full of cheering, laughter, music, and conversations that had to be shouted over the noise. Draco laid next to him, propped up on his elbows so he could still see the festivities. Hermione and Ron ran off to select their dinner, promising to bring something back for them. 

Harry turned onto his side, watching his husband instead of the sky. “This might be the best one yet,” he said, not bothering to elaborate on exactly what  _ one _ he was talking about as he laced his fingers through Draco’s.

Draco turned toward him, a small smile threatening to take over his face, “What makes you say that?” Draco always knew what Harry meant.

“Just a feeling,” Harry replied, returning the smile that finally broke through.

Hermione and Ron eventually returned with dinner, and the four of them ate together, pointing out interesting things they saw on the beach and chatting excitedly about them. They finished eating, with Draco sneakily vanishing the pile of trash they’d accumulated, and then packed up their blanket to join the festival.

Harry caught Draco’s hand as they walked towards one of the bigger bonfires on the beach. A group of locals joined hands and danced around the fire, laughing and stomping their feet to the beat of the music. People stood all around with sparklers and fireworks, waiting for a chance to light them with the giant bonfire in the center. He laughed as a scrawny, teenage boy got too close to the fire, the firework he’d been loosely twirling with his fingers caught and near ready to shoot off. He leaned over to Ron and shouted about how that reminded him of Fred and George in fourth and fifth year. 

His friends laughed in response, agreeing adamantly and watching as the kid ran a bit away from the crowd to plant the firework in the sand before it shot off into the sky. The kid’s friends, or what Harry assumed were his friends, cheered him on as he bolted away from the firework, finally collapsing onto the ground twenty feet away as it blew off into the night. Harry touched his wand in his pocket, whispering a spell as he watched the firework erupt. He was satisfied a moment later when the lights appeared as a snake pattern, the flickering making it look like the snake was slithering across the night sky.

Draco laughed in delight next to him, planting a wet kiss onto Harry’s cheek as he shouted, “Brilliant!”

One of the locals broke the circle of dancers around the fire and pulled Hermione into it, her hair flipping wildly in the smoky wind as she tried to keep up with the stomping rhythm. Harry pulled Ron and Draco in after her, and the four of them danced and stomped around the bonfire for what felt like hours.

After, one of the locals tried to convince Ron to walk over a bed of hot coals, while Hermione tried her best to convince him otherwise. In the end, Ron lifted Hermione up on his shoulders, disregarding the sparklers already lit in her hands, and ran across the coals as fast as he could, until finally lifting Hermione’s petite body over his head in triumph. Harry watched the whole time, catching Draco’s wand pointing towards the coals in his peripheral and giving his husband a secret smile.

As midnight approached, Harry and Draco collapsed onto the sand near the water, out of breath from all the excitement. Harry hadn’t had so much fun since Ron’s 25th birthday party, though he shuddered to think about that night now. There was always a moment during their trips where Harry wished they could pack up, quit their jobs, and travel the world together — maybe settle in a small town in a different country and start everything over.

But he’d settle for this, for now.

Draco had mentioned earlier in the day that the night usually ended with a dip in the ocean at midnight. “It’s said to be cleansing,” he’d pointed out, perusing a map of the city despite the extensive research he’d done in the weeks before the trip, planning out every stop and memorizing the streets. 

Hermione and Ron reappeared after nearly half an hour, sitting down in the sand next to them. The bonfires behind them were starting to die down, the crowds of people all settling down, changing into bikinis or swim shorts for the night's culmination. As the crowds began nearing the water, coming closer to where the four of them sat, they got up to join.

Harry clasped Draco’s hand in one of his own, Hermione’s in the other with Ron on her other side. The four of them ran, hand in hand, into the water, letting themselves be separated and swept away by the waves. Laughing, Harry reached out and managed to grab Draco’s shoulder, tugging him closer until they were pressed together, their soaked clothing forgotten as they kissed under the light of the moon.

* * *

Epilogue

“What’s this?” Harry asked, taking the wrapped box from Hermione’s grip. She and Ron had cornered him in the loo as he was about to rejoin his birthday party. Harry could hear Seamus calling for another round of Butterbeers before Hermione swiftly locked and silenced the room. 

“Well, we’re not exactly telling everyone yet,” Hermione replied, not bothering to answer his question. “Open it.”

He ripped off the paper, lifting the top of the box off and peering inside. He had to fiddle with a load of tissue before finally finding the item. It was a shirt, but much,  _ much _ too small for him. Across the front of it, it read,  _ My godfather is the Chosen One _ , with “Chosen One” in gold lettering. 

“You’re pregnant,” Harry stated, staring at the shirt in awe. Then, “Godfather? You mean me?"

Ron thumped him on the shoulder as Hermione nodded, chewing at her fingernails in anxiety. Harry threw himself into his friends’ arms, laughing. 

“Merlin, congratulations, you two!”

As the three of them returned to the real party, Harry found Draco on the couch and whispered quickly in his ear. Draco’s eyes darted to Hermione and Ron, already engaged in a conversation with Luna over the punch bowl. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Draco sighed, a small smile on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Summer anthology](/series/1788955), a series of Drarry fics exploring Summer Solstice traditions from different parts of Europe.
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2TEsvGg); one song for each of the seven fics included in the collection.


End file.
